Simple lines of star constellations
Tire my night vision
While the sounds of lyre
still disrupt the silence
of the sleepy dark valleys.
Under the tree top there is outspread
memory of the clumps of the furious
and of the beaten paths
that ingrown in weeds.
Sprinkled with dust
collected from dried out wells
Hides the shadow of
Polished silent sky.
All rights belong to its author. It was published on e-Stories.org by demand of Ivan Sokac.
Published on e-Stories.org on 09/26/2019.